


Red Emotion

by Goodwill



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Betrayal, First Kiss, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, He's Halfway Deviant, Heartbreak, I'm Sorry Nines, In a Machine Type of Way, M/M, Nines is Caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:56:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodwill/pseuds/Goodwill
Summary: To feel nothing.  Nothing at all.  To feel nothing, instead of everything at once.That is what it means to stay a machine.





	Red Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> Uh... yeah, I know I have to finish my two other fics, but uh... I needed some Reed900 angst ok? Badly. Consider this a kind of time-skip from Vindictive, a few months after all of that bull.
> 
> I'm just a sucker for emotionally vulnerable Nines all right? It's not a problem... maybe it's a little bit of a problem, but who's gonna stop me?
> 
> Nobody, thank you very much.

He knew going there was a bad idea.

Of course Gavin Reed was bound to end up stumbling out, half dragged, half pushed, towards the exit of the bar. Beside him, the other lowly fucker and main target of the night, about as bloodied and battered as he was. He would have been proud to admit he had gotten a few good swings in, a sharp cut to the right side his contender's face and a good shiner to his left, if what he had done hadn't been undercover. Undercover, sure, he could tell himself that. It was one way to put it after all, one way to cover his tracks, if he hadn't lied through his teeth to hide it.

It wasn't for work, not this time. Not really. The stress caused by his work definitively played a major role in his decision that night, but it wasn't the reasoning of his keeping these events more or less of a secret. Or at least, he would have, have it not been for the obvious signs of trauma to his face and arms. Just another _bar brawl_ in the late hours of the night in Detroit.

Gavin had not planned on fighting though. In fact, he had promised aloud not to, swore he would take up releasing his frustrations some other way, and allowed a fucking android to become his emotional dumpster one way or another. Even in his darkest times, Nines took every and all insults he could muster up, every dig, every ridicule, he took it all as if it were nothing, even going so far to ask Gavin on multiple occasions if he 'felt any better now' in that buttery, monotone voice. The one he found comfort in, loved and hated simultaneously. The one he promised he would come to if he felt like putting another hole in his wall or bloodying up his fists on another bar patron.

The one he had up and left on his couch in the middle of the night to abandon, to mislead. He hadn't intended to, and fuck if a small part of him wasn't being eaten away at for it.

Nines was just such a goddamn _headache_ to deal with when it came to Gavin and his ways of dealing with emotion, coping, whatever. As if an android incapable of deviancy and feelings had any say in that, anyway. He wanted Gavin to express himself in a more healthy manner, preferably speaking to him about it, venting, and to consider advice when it was offered to him.

It worked... temporarily. Nothing ever seemed to fucking last with him, always onto the next thing, then the next, he wanted solutions fast and effectively. It worked until another wave of stressful work piled up and he'd lost all patience and the logical response was to drink until he passed out. That is, until he got there and decided he was too tired to to actually put effort into getting drunk and settled on a few watered down shots. Just enough to make impulsive decisions render him useless at self-control and he was unable to prevent himself from yet another fight, another restless night gone to shit.

Guess there really was no rest for the wicked.

Gavin trudged up to his front door, and ignored the protesting _pain_ in his body as he slumped against it.

 _Time to face the music._

Kicked open with the toe of a shoe, frame eclipsing the entrance way. If the room had been more properly illuminated he would have caught sight of the lingering and uninvited guest sitting idly at his kitchen table, but the darkness was blinding as he shuffled inside. His footsteps, quiet and precise, were futile; he should have known better than to try and steal a march on an android specifically designed to assist in investigative work and detection. But something inside of him felt as if he would not have cared regardless if he had been caught or not. Gavin had acted purely on instinctual behavior when making his way inside, settling on putting the majority of his weight on his heels and staying stealthy because it was the _polite thing to do_ , instead of hiding his belated arrival. But his movements had fallen to a dead stop upon reaching the midway point of his hallway.

A florescent red glow was washed onto the floorboard of his kitchen and Gavin allowed his eyes to follow it to it's source, already knowing what to expect. At the kitchen counter, sitting in one of the three barstools alone, was Nines. The LED on his temple spun again, again, again, in the void of the room, the ring in a slow and pensive loop, revealing his innermost thoughts without him having to articulate them. Throughout months along side him, Gavin had only begun to understand the difference and meaning behind each color the LED displayed, and he knew red was rare for the Rk900–knew it only meant trouble.

**LEVEL OF STRESS** : 56% 

He only ever saw it when the android in the midst of fending off an armed attacker, calculating and measuring each and every inch of the scenario he faced to receive the most efficient and effective way of resolving it, to ensure safety and guarantee to provide the best outcome probable. Or when Nines was becoming frustrated with a task or situation, or when he was overly concerned, protective, for Gavin's own life did the LED reach such an angry red. It was intense emotion, _negative_ emotion, that would only be able to signify distress in the Rk900.

What he felt now was no exception.

Gavin had grown up in the time of technology, even lived through the invention of androids, equipment with emotion, the raise of Cyberlife and Elijah Kamski, but despite of it all, he had never understood the gist of what it meant to become deviant. Never knew how Hank Anderson could read their colors as if they revealed more than just light. Sure, Gavin had been _a good detective_ and done his research, but was still far from savvy when it came down to the newer technology, especially when it became so advanced and beyond his understanding that it created life. Plus, there was almost nothing when it came down to deviancy–almost as if it were never _supposed_ to happen in the first place.

Maybe that would have been for the better; if androids did what they were told and then were idle, and that were the end of it. No freewill, no choices, _no formation of trust._

Gavin is lucky he is currently shielded in the night's camouflage, because when the thought crosses his mind, he feels sick. Something churns inside of him, making him outwardly grimace in disgust. The man would have once never given a second thought to the notion, would have waved it off as simply another common belief, something that went hand-in-hand with his morals, but that had all changed when he became closer than he ever imagined possible with an android. With _Nines_.

Nines, the source of the blinking maroon, a statue in his place. Gavin approached him, slowly, air thick with tension along side his shoulders, the words he wants to say lost on his tongue. Nines finds them, voice too low, too robotic, breaking the silence between them.

"I called you."

His hands are empty, as are his pockets. Gavin hadn't received any phone calls because he didn't want to, didn't want for his night to be interrupted. A deep sigh is the first of his response, "I'm sure you did."

Nines doesn't look at him, fingers still. "I did. _Several times_. And every single dial went to voicemail and all my texts were unread and ignored."

It wasn't his fault, he hadn't brought his phone with him (seems like it was for the best, from the sounds of it), and he knows Nines has figured that out by now. Probably scanned for it's location the minute he found Gavin and it both missing from his bedroom. Gavin decides to keep his peace, not one for bullshitting an excuse, and holds his tongue. But Nines won't let him get off scot-free, not this time.

**LEVEL OF STRESS** :  68% 

"You lied to me, Gavin."

It's a knee jerk reaction, to hide shame and fault, to ward off his responsibility, "I know what I did. No fuckin' reason for you to point out the obvious, _I know_. I fucking know."

He does know and he doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want to acknowledge what he said he wouldn't do.

So he's naturally defensive, quick to anger, core heated and pushing him to tell the machine off, _to put him in his place_ and be the tougher, stronger man. But he can't, because it's impossible, because Nines is right and Gavin knows that he messed up. He had taken advantage of Nines' trust in him, deceived him, snuck out after knowing his android would need to reboot and go into stasis, left his phone in his car with the location off and locked, then took an automatic taxi to his designation. Lied to him, said he would tell him if he was having a bad day and needed a drink, if work had gotten him so over his head that he felt like he needed to take it out on somebody, anybody, just to make himself feel better, that he wouldn't go to sleazy bars looking for a fight and come back looking like he had just come out of a wreck.

But he couldn't keep his promise, even if for the past two months his track record had been clean; no fights, no black eyes, no restless nights, just Nines in his company and being honest when he felt himself slipping. Maybe it was because he was human and bound to relapse. Maybe it was because he held too much pride to admit he needed _more_ , that the feeling of skin on skin contact was what he wanted, _needed_ , along with the rants and raves he went on instead. The secret being that Gavin would happily eat his feelings if it meant he could get some intimacy, so touch-starved he did not have a preference if it were positive or negative contact, as long as it was easy to get.

He thought it pathetic of himself, which only burned more anger in his chest, all self-deprecation, though he'd refuse to accept that as the truth had it be brought up. Gavin exhaled, relieving some of the pressure inside himself as he looked to the figure unmoving in his seat, speaking again,

"So I fucked up. Went out, _met my fate_." Gavin shook his head, throwing his hands on the table in front of Nines, glaring into where his face should have been in the dark. "It doesn't fuckin' matter, none of my business got _shit_ to do with you."

The single glass on top of the island vibrated under the rise of Gavin's voice, sloshing the water inside. Nines looked to the glass as it moved, focus wavering, unclear. It reflected the bruised and bloodied face of his acquaintance, all bared red-stained teeth. This came as no surprise, he had picked up the scent of blood when Gavin had come in a close enough proximity, and it's color mirrored his LED.

And he was selfish–selfish because looking upon Gavin, he found himself feeling like something he could only pin as being privately _glad_ at his disheveled appearance, at the smell of blood instead of someone else's perfume on his skin, at the bruises on his cheekbones instead of hickies on his neck, unlike the other times the detective had shown up after a particularly rough work week. Nines would not say it though, even outright refused for himself to do so, still festering in the resentment of Gavin's earlier absence.

**LEVEL OF STRESS** : 74% 

Blue eyed picked up from the cup, lids lowered and hardened into a tight narrow as they searched for Gavin's real face. "You promised me that you would stop putting yourself in reckless situations. Was what we had situated not working for you? You told me that–"

"Yeah, you're right," Gavin snapped suddenly, followed by a sharp exhale through his nose. "I did tell you that, all of it, and I don't fucking care. It's not fucking workin', Nines."

"Do not interrupt me," The android bit out, "Can you not see that I'm simply trying to help you?" A shift in tone, something more argumentative, confused. Gavin watches closely for a minute, knowing that Nines seems to want to say more than he is willing to hear, a small frown pinned to synthetic lips.

Something of a growl escapes Gavin's throat, scraping by the raw coating left by the alcohol. " _'Help' me_? Motherfucker, listen up–I don't need your goddamn help, got it? I am plenty capable at sortin' out my own shit."

"I didn't come here to argue, Detective."

"Good," Sucks on his teeth with a breath, "then quit bothering me about it or get the fuck out."

The Rk900 continued to foster the seat he was sitting on, not willing to comply with Gavin's demands nor leave him behind in the state he was in, LED cycling through another sharp sphere of red. Instead he turns in his seat, much too easily, and faces Gavin with furrowed brows, sneer growing on his mouth. "I will not," He answers, firm, ignoring the finger that points up to lead to the door. "Not until you speak with me. I want to know what has caused you to betray me."

 _Betray_ him.

Gavin ignored the sting, let the drunken stupor take over and the rage work it's way inside. "You know what? _**Fuck**_ this, and you. I'm going to bed. See yourself out, and do us both a favor," his words aren't slurred, all seriousness and anger, almost sobered up from the guilt. "Don't come back."

Then for the second time that night, Gavin was leaving Nines again, in the dark and alone, pushing himself away from the table. It was too late to bother with this, arguing with a goddamn android, something he seemed to do alot now these days, and the inevitable hangover that was sure to haunt him within the next few hours would appreciate if he'd just left it all alone; let the cards fold into place themselves. There was no point tampering with what was bound to happen, to prolong Nines' giving up on him and walking out. The same old, same old.

Red, yellow, red, red. Thinking, _processing_.

It had been the reason why Gavin was all wound up, the increasing reports of homicides involving androids killing humans, mostly out of defense or revenge and the inability to resolve what their emotional stressors thought the problem. They had murdered them out of indescribable anger and frustration, as had been deemed the reason many a time, after suffering from emotional and physical abuse prior to the registering of android intelligence and rights. During investigations and interviews, Nines had always struggled to relate and to understand the emotional vulnerability of the other androids, deviancy making it so easy for them to lose all sense of control, all sense of law and obedience. He thought it made them _weak_ , the intrusion and dependency of emotion. But now, in this very moment, he understood. Nines gradually acknowledged the intensity of _feeling_ and _want_ , his hands, usually steady and prepared, were now shaky, itching to do **something** , and he couldn't stop himself if he had tried as he watched Gavin begin to turn away.

(Software Instability **^** )

_So much for being more resilient than his predecessor._

**LEVEL OF STRESS** : 80% 

In seconds Gavin is pulled back, the hand locked on his forearm in a vice like grip demanding control and presence. All that leaves Gavin's throat is a low surprised growl, adrenaline from the night's earlier events still pumping through him. So far, it had been the only factor keeping him awake. He's ripped back to Nines' side, lower back hitting the edge of the table with a quick _thud_ , digits never loosening on his flesh.

"We are not done here," The words are whispered through perfect, too sharp teeth. "I'm not going anywhere if you do not talk. Once you explain to me what I have done for you to break my trust, then I will leave."

Gavin rears his head back, glaring at the Rk900 from his prerithial, but all else avoiding eye contact. He bristles to relieve his arm. It's no use, Nines doesn't budge. He grunts something guttural before replying back, "Get the fuck _off of me_ before I bust your skull open."

"I do not believe you are in position to execute such an act, Detective." Pressure builds on his hold as Nines finally stands from his seat, placing more leverage in his position. "It seems I would have the upper hand."

Another rush, one of exhaustion and irritation. Gavin twists himself around, using Nines' grip on his arm to turn them around, now being the one to have the other pinned to the ledge. The fingers of his free hand find the front of the machine's ridiculously high collar, nails biting into the fabric and holding tight, relentless. In a shift movement he pulls Nines forward, teeth clenched and lips bared back.

"You so sure, tin-can?"

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" The android bites out, perfectly sculpted fingers reaching up to grab Gavin's fingers as they burrow themselves into his jacket. Nines let's out an irritated growl when he gets tugged down to the detective's height, unhappy with how _in his space_ Gavin currently was. He had failed to pre-construct this predicament, underestimated his human's strength and quick reflex. Should have known better–he has seen Gavin in action before, and knew that his partner was fast. Still, a part of him was completely in awe; it was not simple to pull a fast one on an Rk900, and for what it was worth, Nines was impressed.

It was not programmed for him to feel this way. The Rk900 had not been created with the idea that he would ever need to be surprised, not by anything. Nines was a machine of stealth; he was made so that he could not comprehend what it felt to be compassionate, empathetic, made only out of steel and apathy, anti-deviancy–though staring into the face of the detective made it possible for him. But it's hard to resist the tingles forcing his right restless, sending signals of aggression, errors and warnings in the sides of his vision. There is something wrong with his programming, because he pushes them aside, although hesitantly, and loosens his fingers around Gavin's wrist.

"Let go, Gavin. I do not wish to cause you any harm."

He spoke with such a nonchalant tone, a carelessness specially fabricated, that placidity Gavin despised when his being's ablaze. The man jerked his arm away the minute he was able to, then lowered his other hand from Nines' jacket, wisely taking a few steps back to recreate some distance between them. "You fuckin' touched me first," Gavin sneered. "You don't get to play victim."

The spot where Nines had grabbed him went cold with the lack of pressure, and he found himself longing to replace it. It sickened him. The vileness of his thoughts co-existing with that in the back of his throat. "I want your ass gone, you hear me plastic? Just shut up and _LEAVE._ " The shout tears at the bloody split in his lips, pain causing his voice to become rougher, straining against the physical and emotion tole it took to speak. "I don't want you here, don't want to see your face unless we're at work. Now haul ass before I drag you out myself."

An internal count of five, then he turns and makes his exit towards his bedroom, expects the machine to obey and turn on his ass to leave. He wouldn't be so lucky.

" _Detective– please,_ " An almost pitiful request, at least in his mind, Nines watching Gavin turned his back on him once more.

The man didn't slow, footsteps never faltered, keeping his composure determined and stubborn, uncompromising.

"Fuck off."

With a imploring gaze, Nines tried to force himself to keep his feet planted where he was. It was no use, however. Deviancy was that of a _virus_ , made the machine lose control of his programming, nothing short of freewill. Shoulders slumped, certain that this would be a terrible mistake. Nines crossed the room in record time, trying catch Gavin before he shut him out to bask in his mistakes, repeating his own toxic cycle of self-care.

Nines hurried to close the gap between them, machincal fingers grasping for his in an attempt to stop him, falling just short of the detective's hand. Despite his bitter demeanor only moments before, his hold was soft, careful. The android remembered the last time he went to grab him like this, when he was not all capable to control his awareness, all fogged up on protocols and statistics, doing anything to finish his mission. It was then he acknowledged, somehow, this _need_ turned into a _want_. He wanted to know Gavin, wanted to help him.

"Gavin, talk to me."

Nines hardly moves his lips to speak, trying his best at what Gavin would assume was self-control, defying his programming that would otherwise have him fighting back against, arguing, demanding his point of view be heard. What he wanted to do right now, was listen. He wanted Gavin to know he could be there for him, empathetic, as alive and as capable as he was.

Yellow, yellow, red, yellow. Thinking, _feeling_

**LEVEL OF STRESS** : 71% 

Moments ago, he was sure he would have resigned to using his fists if Nines had made for him, but it wasn't until he passed by the dining room did he feel the cold iron fingers graze the skin of his wrist did he stop walking. What he had expected was a sharp pull, more pain, another fight. Instead Gavin stilled, immobile by gentleness of his touch and the _begging_ in his voice.

Fucking _confused_ , was all he could make out that he was feeling. Gavin turned, only slightly, the feeling of skin, despite it being faux and belonging to a machine, felt nice against his. He closed his eyes, inhaling deep, feeling the concoction of emotion swirl inside of his chest. "What the hell do you want?"

_Affection._

Nines craved it, wanted it with every component of his being, but it all slipped away from him like water through his fingers. He was drowning in emotion that did not belong to him, suffocating, losing control. He couldn't grab it, couldn't hold it in his arms and carry it, like reaching for air–every attempt in vain.

It were times like this where he thought, perhaps, the Rk800 model was the one more advanced, more capable. Deviation was complex, and it felt almost like cheating to become ignorant of emotion. Nines went back to when he had thought of Connor as defective, a failure and flaw of Cyberlife's creations, and found himself caving in with disappointment and frustration. They had designed Connor with the option to gain control, not in restriction to only his decisions, but of himself too, and the freedom to react and feel on his own behalf was part of that. However, Nines was confined to believe he could never achieve what Connor had, and he _despised_ that. He wanted to be able to show Gavin what he meant to him. To show him he was more than just a partner, an acquaintance; that he was someone Nines had begin to care deeply about.

He wanted to be the intimacy Gavin looked for at three in the morning when he was on the brink of losing himself. But he didn't know how to say it, show it, _provide it_.

Maybe he was the failure, a flaw in the worst type of way.

"...Nines?"

No response, only movement, _closeness._

He barely got the name out, lips suffocated against another pair. They belonged to Nines. Nines' mouth on his. Nines was _kissing_ him. Gavin froze, heart in his throat, feeling more fingers on his skin, this time on the rough patch of stubble on his jaw. He opened his eyes and didn't return the kiss, went to turn away. But before he can, it seems the android has already... finished? Gavin isn't entirely sure if he should be mad or just confused. He angles himself away instead.

Nines blinks at himself, and at Gavin. His lips were a lot softer and smooth than they appeared to be. Warmer, too. The information extracted from his embrace was overwhelming, system trying it's best to decipher what it all meant. His kiss had been quick, maybe a little rough, and held back. Something inside of him sunk when Gavin had not reacted with any movement, the only hint of what he was feeling that of the increase of his heartbeat.

They stood in silence, both angry and disoriented, until Nines went to explain on his behalf, LED stuck on an endless yellow. "I... I apologize. I don't know what came over me, I didn't mean to cause you discomfort; I was unable to control myself."

Gavin pulled away like he can be shocked, only now aware that Nines' hand still pressed against his. "Don't... just don't fuckin' do that again, all right? Did nobody program you with manners, or did you just forget about them after the revolution?"

Now, he forced himself to look anywhere but the dark eyes contrasting his own. The look of rejection would have been too much to _feel_ , too overwhelming. It was a sensation that Nines hoped he would never experience, not ever, he was made to be of satisfaction and acceptance.

"I understand." He nodded, brows furrowed, joints in the metal of his jaw tight and straining. "I think there is something wrong with me."

"Get out."

"Detective Reed–"

" _Out_."

Silence, the sound of quiet breathing.

"I'm sorry, I'll go."

The android straightened himself, head bowing once as a way of waving his white flag, mouth closing with it. He turned without another word and made for the door, turning the tables with each pace of his shoe clad feet. This time Gavin was being the one left in the dark. He felt his hands rub against his eyelids, realizing he hadn't blinked since he watched Nines disappear down the hallway, leaving him in his wake, phantom lips still on his. He looked up into the empty darkness.

Couldn't help himself, the urge was too strong. All he wanted in his life was for his friends and family to be able to touch him suddenly and himself not to flinch away without meaning to. And now that he got it, he found himself letting it slip away. A coward's way out. Gavin cursed to himself, fists clenching and unclenching as he powered his way down the hall after him, only to catch the echo as his front door shut. It was too late, Nines was gone, and the realization after hit him like a ton of bricks.

_He was gone and he wouldn't be coming back._

**Author's Note:**

> wipes the sweat off my brow awkwardly,
> 
> how's THAT for a newbie's first attempt at angst? what, you said it's mediocre at best and not really fitting for what 'angst' means? hmm, understandable, you're sorta kinda right about that chief, I gotta agree.


End file.
